The Lonely Existence
by carved in the sand
Summary: Towards the darkness, the one to appear before Sasuke is Sakura. It's always, always been Sakura. {The SasuSaku Drabble Dump}
1. always

**A/N:** Hey! Since I am currently moving all of my tumblr writing on to the lovely ffnet for when I go on a semester-long hiatus for the following school year, I decided that I have a lot of tiny, short fics that are all SasuSaku that don't really need to be uploaded on their own. This is for when my imagination and muse run wild, and other, old, revamped things. And with the way the manga's been going, it's been seriously acting up. OMG THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS A;SDFKJA /composes self/ I'm seriously excited, if you can't tell.

Enjoy!

* * *

It it late in the winter, late at night, with barren trees and a flurry of snow falling into their hair. He is dressed in ANBU gear and his mask in place.

"Please don't get yourself killed," Sakura chastises, brushing the hair out of her face, the rest pulled into a high bun. She curled up near his coffee table with a mug of hot chocolate and a thick medical text book about poisons that melt your skin. "Otherwise I'll be forced to abandon the village and avenge you. And, well, I don't quite want to be hunted down by hunter-nins."

"Hn. You probably wouldn't last a day."

"Yeah. Naruto would go after me himself."

"As if I'd get myself killed, Sakura," Sasuke laments, turning to face her from the mirror with his crow mask. "It's only a few months."

"By yourself. Hunting down some dangerous group of shinobi. 'A fool's blade is much sharper than his mind'," Sakura huffed, quoting an old book that he didn't quite remember. She turned back to her book. "I'll look after the place, okay? Just bring yourself back. And not just a corpse for me and Naruto to bury."

Sasuke slips the mask from his face, and walks over to the coffee table silently, where she stares down at the text book long and hard. Sakura doesn't turn to face him when he sits down next to her, one leg hiked up for his elbow to hang off and the other tucked into him.

"I'll be back."

"This is your first solo mission."

"I'll be back, Sakura."

"You won't."

He grasps her chin and pulls her head towards him, watching the anger and anxiety flash around her eyes in a steady dance, the rest of her remaining still. His gloved hand curves around her cheek to pull her face closer to his.

"I'll always come back to you," he murmurs. "Always."

"Prove it." The sharpness of her voice is challenging, and he smirks. He isn't quite sure how their faces ended up millimeters apart, but just as she's pulling away, he grasps the back of her neck and kisses her.

He kisses her with a lack of elegance and skill she'd ever expected from him, but nothing less than heated, as she is already leaning in again and curling her arms around his neck, tilting her head.

It's an eternity before she pulls away, breathing as raggedly as he is. "Get out of here, will you? I'm just going to end up locking you away in your closet," Sakura whispered.

"Thats almost tempting," he answers, a small, soft smile just pulling at the edges of his lips. Unwillingly, he slips from her grasp, and she almost locks her grip from porcelain to steal when he stands, slipping his mask back into place and walking towards the door.

His hand is on the doorknob when she calls out to him. "Don't you dare keep me waiting, Uchiha."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmurs back.

Sakura hears the door open and close, his footsteps as silent as the January wind. She takes another sip of her hot chocolate too fast, burning the tip k her tongue, trying to wash away the taste of his lips.


	2. lacerations

.

.

.

Her twenty third birthday is spent in a faraway city, isolated from her friends and family. The town is a holy place, littered with shrines and temples alike, the red, white and green buildings almost clashing with the pale pink of the cherry blossom trees, vibrantly pink and in full bloom.

The sun is just setting when she arrives at the largest temple in the city, treading silently on the perfectly kept grass. She wore a dark blue cloak, covering her black hair and face.

She entered the temple through a door on the second floor left balcony, climbing the vines that trailed over the walls and slipping onto the balcony, into the doors, and brushing open the curtains.

An old man curled in on himself on his large bed, the furnishing of the room simple and elegant. The dying light from the sunset filtered through the balcony doors.

_'They should be here any second,'_ Sakura thought to herself, pulling out a kunai from the holster strapped to her thigh and twirled it around her fingers, walking quietly around the room, muscles coiled to spring at any second._ 'I'll be ready.'_

She brushed back her hood to reveal her henge-made black hair and matching eyes, running her hand through the short, choppy locks. Sakura was almost guilty for taking the appearance of the civilian woman she'd seen on her way here, but it was as good a disguise as any.

When the door began to open at the other side of the room, she was already behind it, slipping behind it, pressing against the wall as the assassin made his way into the room, the sound of a sword unsheathing ringing through her ears, almost silent.

Sakura slipped from behind the door and lunged.

Her kunai aimed for the back of his neck, but he turned swiftly, leaning back and jutting out his chin so that it took the brunt of her attack, while his shoulder lifted his sword backwards awkwardly, about to slice through her jugular, but was knocked back by her elbow.

They jumped apart, and she analyzed him, committing each detail to memory: pale blond hair, pale blue eyes, too-soft features, tall, lanky, with all black clothing. Sakura grit her teeth, staring him down with a heavy in take of her lungs, and bolted.

He followed.

She dashed off on the balcony, hopped onto the railing, and used it to launch herself out onto the grass below her, landing neatly, then bolting into a run. She heard his pursuit of not-quite silent footsteps padding swiftly against the ground, coming closer and _closer-_

She ducked left when his sword came lunging at her again, nearly brushing by her cheek. The assailant went flying over her, tucking and rolling, ending up in a crouch a few feet away from her. Sakura was already on her feet again, pulling out her kunai and dashing forward.

The metal clashed and clanged furiously, Sakura ducking and weaving through his assaults, and the blonde man viciously swiping at her. She desperately looked for an opening, but found none, becoming increasingly worried - she couldn't keep up this pace for long. And he was so much faster than her. One slip up…..

The sword went sliding across her throat, splattering blood everywhere. Sakura stumbled and fell brokenly onto the grass, staring up at the night sky with panic searing into her veins, and chakra fluctuating uncontrollably in an attempt to make the blood clot and seal the wound.

She coughed out blood viciously, hacking and spitting it out as it began to coat her throat and choke it. Air, _air_, where was the goddamned _air-_

"Sakura!" a voice hissed.

She wanted to speak, choke out anything, but she began to cough up blood again. She vision blackened, and the voice calling her name again died away in her ears.

.

.

.

The sword sliced across her neck, and like countless others, she fell.

The night air, cool against his overheated skin as he watched the dark-haired woman begin to die, turned chilling and menacing.

The henge dropped, and Sasuke stared over her broken body, blood pouring from her throat, skin glowing a stark white in the contrast of the darkness of the night, and his hands were shaking, his whole body was rattling. The image struck up nightmares he used to dream of in cold, underground labs, distantly wondering when there wouldn't be anyone to protect her, yet now, _his_ blade was stained with _her_ blood-

_She already looked like __**a corpse-**_

Sasuke dropped to his knees, ripping off his shirt and hastily pressing it against her neck, trying to clot the bleeding, his hope for her wellbeing already crashing and burning. Unconsciously, he spat out her name, calling out for her, trying to keep her alive.

"Stay alive, goddamn it. _Stay alive._"

.

.

.

Sakura comes into consciousness slowly, noticing the dull burn of the muscles, the steady ache of her throat with every beat of her heart, and the cold, silky sheets that wrapped around her body, a bit of warmth, a bit of coolness.

Her chakra, stretched out, searching for any familiar signatures. She can tell that it's been more than a few hours - maybe a few days. She wanted to stretch and move around and flex out her weary muscles.

How did she end up in her bed?

Her eyes snapped open when she sensed another presence in the room.

This was not her room -_ this wasn't Konoha._

"I know you're awake."

Sakura slowly, carefully, sat up, watching him from the side of her vision, and not meeting his face. "Why am I alive?" she asked him quietly, flinching at the sharp pain in her throat.

He doesn't bother to answer, merely walking up to her bed, moving his hands toward her neck, and she stiffens and leans away, finally looking him in the eyes. Green clashes against black, an unspoken conversation of insecurity and distrust and pain, palpable like an artic breeze, trailing goose bumps up her skin.

"I'll change your bandages," he told her.

Sakura rolled her eyes, smacking his hands away and slipping off the bandage herself, her fingers trailing over a scabbed over, and pressed a glowing hand against the skin there.

Sasuke's eyes widened.

"I'm a medic," she explained, wincing again at her pain. In a matter of seconds, her neck was perfectly healed, and she spoke with a sharp fervor tying up her words. "Why the hell did you bring me here?"

He stepped back and moved to turn away from her, when she grasped his wrist. He looked down at her irately. "You need rest," he said.

"And you need to answer my question," she shot back.

He ripped his arm from her hand and began to leave the room, hand grasping the door knob, fingers flexing around the metal, hesitation almost palpable. "I'm not spitting up an apology for you."

"Give me a few hours," Sakura said tiredly. "I'll make you spit up something else. Like your liver."

A smile twitched at his lips before he left the room.

.

.

.

The nightmare was sharp and vivid, etching itself into her memory.

Sakura turned over her arms in front of her face, translucent, the wooden floors clear as day through her too-white skin. She stared at the bed in front of her to see her body, Sasuke leaning over her.

Pain, like a whip, slicing through her skin and her heart, made her. She could see her throat flooding red. The blood didn't clot. The red stained the blue silk sheets, tainted them, like a bad dream she didn't want to have. Sakura shut her eyes closed, burying her face in her hands and growled, hissed, screamed.

Sasuke stood over her body with his head bowed, forehead pressing into her own, looking sick. Sakura's stomach lurched, and she fell backwards, vision blurring into black.

.

.

.

She shot out of the bed, out of the room, and went walking around, entering a bathroom, a another bedroom, and the kitchen before she saw him in the living room.

It was still dark outside. He should have been asleep.

"Tell me," she said from the entryway. "Tell me why you saved me."

"Go back to bed, Sakura," Sasuke answered soothingly.

"Tell me!" she hissed, reaching out to slam her fist against the wall. The room began to shake, and Sasuke whirled around in shock to a sizeable crack that took form. "I-I'm your enemy! I tried to kill you! I'm from Konoha! You should have been _happy_ to watch me die! What's _wrong_ with you?"

The Uchiha's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he turned around once more, displaying the back of his head to her, and silently, she noticed his hair had grown. It trailed well over the base of his neck. "You couldn't do it."

"Well, I could _now!"_ she spat viciously, fists shaking with fury. "You- you cause me nothing but pain, you know. Naruto too. Don't think that just because he didn't kill you after the war, doesn't mean _I won't._ You've done a lot of shitty things. You're still a shitty person."

"I'm well aware of what I've done. As well as you," he answered her dully. "Because most of my actions weren't sanctioned by governments like Konoha, do you really think that they were all that different from your own?"

"I don't murder blindly."

"And neither do I."

Sakura let out a shaky breath, turning her head in disagreement. "I'm your enemy," she muttered quietly, covering her hands with her face. "Naruto told me a long time ago. Konoha killed your family, and they made your brother do it. It makes me feel sick to my stomach thinking about it and…..and I don't…..I don't know. I should be your enemy."

"You're not my enemy, Sakura."

"But_ I should be."_

She did not hear his foot steps, the rustling of clothes and paper scrolls, but she was all too aware of his hands curling around her wrists, calloused skin brushing insensitively against soft skin, whispering half-conscious promises and unspoken heartache.

Sasuke pulled down her hands, away from her face, and stared.

"You're not my enemy, Sakura," he repeated quietly. She looked down, away from his eyes, and sighed quietly. Her smile was awkward and painful, like broken glass.

"I'm so sorry."

"Tch," he answered, scoffing quietly at her apology, grasping her chin and tilting up her head. "Stop being annoying, will you?"


	3. blame game

She watched him from behind the bars, grimacing like she'd stuffed broken glass between her lips.

"You belong there," she spat, all wild hair, red eyes, and too-white skin. She looked demonic. "You belong there. You're nothing more than a common criminal."

His eyes were wild, shining black pools of menace. "A murderer. Say it."

Sakura shrieked, banging her fist against the cell bars ferociously, denting them. Her heart was fast, but the pain was slow, like a poison melting through her veins and quietly destroying her. "Don't feel so goddamned high! You're disgusting. The only person on this planet to still love you!"

He smiled cruelly at her, standing from the rickety bench, and then dragging his chakra-suppressing chains on the floor, so that he would be closer to the bars, closer to her. "The only people who ever loved me, the only people in this world that ever mattered, have long since died."

Sakura's eyes were shining like an unearthly green, hot, melting, she wanted to burn him with the anger choking up her throat. "He mattered more than any fucking Uchiha," she hissed. "He mattered more than the goddamned sun and moon and stars. And now he's-,"

"-a corpse."

"You'll burn in hell for it."

"And you'll suffer right along with me."

She howled again, baring her teeth at him, animalistic in her desire to hurt him. Sasuke merely smiled wider. "Don't compare me to you. Never."

"I could compare you to Naruto," Sasuke drawled, shackled hands reaching through the bars to grasp her shirt and squeeze, not letting her flinch back. "Two illustrious, fake nobility, like the air running through your goddamned heads. You do what I do for a living, and you get paid for it. The government sanctions it, Sakura. Don't play innocent. You're as murderous as me."

Sakura grasped his hand and squeezed, pressed her fingers down on his skin under bones fractured and snapped and collapsed on theselves against the spasming muscles. She heard his his and drank it in her ears like wine.

"You're sick," Sakura spat maliciously. "Disgusting. Your hands are stained with Naruto's blood."

She squeezed harder on his hand, bursting blood veins. His face burned a sick pinkish red.

"You're too twisted to live, Sasuke. You've done too much to be given another chance. You're incapable of love, unable to be loved," Sakura hissed, breathing harshly against the bars.

Sasuke cackled, high and leering, that sent tingles down her spine and goosebumps up her arms. "Liar," he choked out through his laughter. "You loved me once. Fifteen years ago. You cried for me, begged for me."

Sakura dropped his broken hand and grasped both bars, angling her arms as if she were going to bend them apart and rip them from their sockets just to get to them. "You're blind. I could never love you again. I couldn't want anything except your head mounted on my bedroom wall."


End file.
